Incubus Dreams

I'd done a lot of vampire lairs in my day, but never with Mobile Reserve or any police tactical unit. In some ways, it was very different, and in some ways, it was very the same. Difference one, I wasn't in front. Hudson was the guy in charge once we hit the building. He'd been in charge before, as far as I was concerned, but he'd had to answer to his chain of command. Incident commander, negotiation commander, tactical commander, but none of them was going in with us, and it was all about who was willing to pick up a gun and put their shoulder next to yours.

Hudson went third in the line order, though it wasn't going to be a true single line. "You will move when I move, Blake. You are my fucking shadow until I tell you different. You will follow my direct orders once we're inside, or I will cuff you and leave you with a guard. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," I said. I think he liked me as a person, but we were about to do his job. The job wasn't personal, and professionally, he didn't know me at all. No amount of charm could offset that he didn't really trust me at his back. I hadn't earned it yet.

They brought up a huge metal body shield with a little window in it. Officer Baldwin carried the shield. He wasn't the bulkiest of the men, that was Derry, but Baldwin had height, and since everyone was going to be crouching behind the shield, height counted, like tall people trying to crouch under a short person's umbrella.

I expected them to use one of those big metal rams, but they didn't. Ms. Conroy had paid extra for a solid metal door with a lock that made it true security. All that looking at specs of the building and interviewing people had paid off. They put a small explosive charge on the lock and blew it.

The flash bang grenade went first, then in we went in the wake of the stu

Thanks to the briefing, I knew the layout of this condo almost better than my own house. The big empty living room, the small enclosed kitchen, the hallway beyond with the guest bathroom left and the guest room right. It was a straightforward layout, thank God.

Hudson spoke in the mike in my ear, a whisper even with me standing right behind him with my hand touching his back, "Mendez, Derry, kitchen." They peeled off wordlessly, the back of our little conga line lighter. Jung moved up, and I felt his hand against my back. Nice to know I wasn't the only one who needed a steadying hand.

Radio in my ear: "Vic, female, not Morgan." I think it was Derry.

"Vamp bites."

"Yes."

"Blake, check it out."

I stumbled, made Jung stumble, we were like dominoes. I remembered to press my button. "What?"

"Check out the body."

I could have argued but there was no time. I knew he was doing it to get rid of me. Maybe I really had slowed them down, but he was definitely getting me out of the way before the main shit hit the fan.

I peeled off like they had shown me and went for the kitchen. I followed his order, even though I didn't agree. I went to check out the body, because the sergeant had told me to. Damn it.

I double-timed it to the kitchen, because if I hurried, I might still get to trail in for the main fight. Light shown through the louvered door of the kitchen. I smelled the blood before I touched the door.

Light washed over me, then dimmed, as my eyes adjusted. Derry was heading for the door as I was coming in. Hudson's voice, sounding strained but clear, hit the radio: "Stay with Blake until she's checked the body." Radio silence.

Derry's shoulders slumped, saying he was disappointed, but he didn't argue.

Derry just moved up with me, rifle still at the ready. I went with him, though I pointed my shotgun a little to one side. The room wasn't that wide, and I just wasn't sure there was enough room for all of us pointing guns in, without risking crossing someone's body. One of my goals tonight was not to do that.

I knew some of what we'd find, because I could smell it. Not just the blood, old blood, but that meaty, fluid smell, and a stale whiff of sex. Male sex. It helped me steel myself for what I was about to see.

She lay spread-eagle on the small four-seater table. Her legs had folded over the edge of the table, and her groin was splayed in a line for the door, so the view was painfully clear. She'd been raped, and for that much damage, probably not just with someone's body. Or at least not just with a penis. I was glad when I could look away. She was wearing what looked like a silver sequined bikini, but she had pantyhose on under it. Though I might not have realized that if the clothes on her lower body hadn't been ripped away. The pantyhose told me she was a stripper from this side of the river. The laws on the books in St. Louis for strippers are odd. Jean-Claude's club gets around it on a grandfather clause, because as a vampire he was here before the laws went into effect, but anyone else had to abide by the rules. One of the rules was that the girls had to wear pantyhose, not just hose, under their outfits. The rules were designed by people who wanted to make sure that St. Louis could not have "those kinds" of clubs. There's no one so self-righteous as someone policing someone else's morality.

Her head was back, so that her eyes were staring at the far wall of the small but expensive-looking kitchen. Her hair was brown and must have been at least to her waist. I'd become pretty good at judging hair length when people were lying down. The hair was real, not a wig, so it wasn't our missing stripper. This was indeed someone else. How many people had they kidnapped tonight?

Either Mendez or Derry had used flex cuffs on her wrists. It was standard op on intact bodies. Officers had been killed by "dead" bodies. Better safe than sorry.

Mendez squatted down. He was peering under the table. "What is that?"

I squatted, because I was closer to the ground. Derry kept an eye on the room, gun sort of at the ready, but careful to not point out toward us. It was nice to work with professionals.

There was a long cylindrical object under the table. It was black with dried blood on it. It was so caked with blood that for a second I couldn't tell what it was, then it was like one of those abstract pictures that suddenly snap into place, and you know. I swallowed hard, against the burn of nausea. I took a slow breath through my nose and let it out easy through my mouth. My voice sounded odd even to me, when I said, "Bottle, wine bottle."

Mendez said, "God." He must have hit his button by accident, because Hudson heard him.

"What is it, Mendez?" Hudson asked over the headsets.

"Sorry, sir, just, Jesus, this was a bad way to die."

"Steady, Mendez."

"That didn't kill her," I said, and stood up.

Mendez moved with me. His eyes flashed white through his mask and gear.

I pointed with one hand at her neck, her breast, her arms. "They bled her to death."

"Before?" he asked, sort of hopefully. Never a good sign when the police are asking you to please make this not as horrible as it looks.

I shook my head. "But multiple bites means she's dead, she can't be a vampire. The body is checked out, guys. Can I join you, or am I on permanent baby-sit duty?"

Derry moved for the door of the kitchen. Oh, goody, I wasn't the only one who wanted out of here. I followed Derry, and Mendez brought up the rear. I'd have moved to the back of the line, but no one complained, so I stayed where I was. The sound of gunfire and yelling and screaming was ahead. I wanted to run, but Derry moved at a jog. If his body was tight with adrenaline, and his pulse thundering, it didn't show. Mendez followed Derry's lead, and so did I.